Twelve Nights (4 page)

“Still dating the boy wonder?”

“I thought we weren’t going to fight.”

“Sorry,” Angel apologized.

“Andrew and I are still together.”

“How old is he? Twenty-one?”

“Andrew is twenty-five and he’s brilliant.”

“But can he fuck? No, forget I said that.”

Silence on the line.

“Boo, I’m sorry,” Angel tried. “I bet he’s a great fuck.”

Aggie laughed. “No, he isn’t, but he’s sweet. I won’t ask
you about your love life.”

Angel had told her sister that she had gotten a job as a
secretary in a big Manhattan firm. She hadn’t added that the firm was a call
girl operation and that she had rapidly moved from the phone to the bedroom.
Aggie thought her sister was too busy, and too cold, for a boyfriend. In a way,
she was right.

“Nil,” Angel answered. For
love
life, it was true. Fucking was an entirely different matter.

“When are you flying into Atlanta? Can we meet at the
airport and drive to Auburn?”

“It’s all set,” Angel admitted. “I already bought the
tickets and rented the car.”

“What if I’d said no?”

“I would have been out a few dollars. No biggie.”

“It’s a biggie to me,” Aggie bristled. “Just because you’re
ten minutes older…”

“Don’t start,” Angel laughed. “Mea culpa. The big sister
sins again. So I bought you a plane ticket. Are you going to divorce me?”

“I love you, Angela.” Aggie’s voice broke on the last word.
“I’ve missed you so much.”

“We’ll catch up on the weekend, Boo,” Angel promised, her
voice steady. She couldn’t afford to get sentimental. Not now. “I’ll Fed Ex the
tickets to you.”

“Use my work address at the library.”

“Will do.”

“Don’t hang up yet, Boo,” Aggie pleaded. “I’m scared I’m
imagining this.”

“You’ll get the ticket tomorrow, Aggie. This is getting to
me, Boo. I gotta go.”

Angel heard her sister’s sob as she hung up the phone. She
wondered whether she would be able to carry out her plan, but what was the
alternative? On October twenty-eighth, Angel had written a letter to the box
number on the classified ad. The odds were one in a lot, but still better than
a lottery, she hoped. The ad said over thirty; she was twenty-eight. The ad
said normal. Hah. Who was normal, anyway? The ad said no prostitutes, so Angel
borrowed her twin’s persona, right down to name, occupation and social security
number. And photograph.

Angel hadn’t gone back to work. She had enough money to last
a few weeks and she needed time to think, time for the bruises and the memories
to fade. But by February she’d be out on the street with no rent money. Either
this guy came through or she’d be back to work on her back.

A week later Angel had gotten an express delivery to the
post office box she rented. The form letter requested further information
regarding her application. Annoyed and sure now that the ad was a scam, Angel
had scrawled ‘Thanks anyway’ across the questions, and sent the pages by return
mail to the box number of the ad.

Two days later a dozen red roses had arrived at her
doorstep. The card said only, ‘Sorry for the inquisition.’ Angel’s address was
private; her phone unlisted. The arrival of the roses made her think that maybe
some guy did have a hundred twenty thousand dollars to throw around. And that
maybe he was a little scary. The next day when the phone rang, Angel hesitated
before picking up the handset.

“Hello.” She used her Aggie-voice just in case.

“Is this Agnes Trout?” The voice was a young man’s.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“You remember the personal ad?”

“You placed the ad?” Angel asked. The voice was too young
and innocent.

“No,” he responded. “My brother did.”

“Is this on the level?” Angel asked. “How did you get my
phone number? It’s unlisted.”

“I liked your letter, Agnes.” The man ignored Angel’s
question.

“Call me Aggie,” Angel answered automatically. “Did you send
the flowers?”

“Did you like them?”

“They’re beautiful. Why did you send them?”

“He shouldn’t have sent the letter.”

“Who?”

The young man again ignored her question. “He was
suspicious. You gave a New York box number but you work in Cincinnati.”

“I explained that. I’m visiting my cousin.”

“Not your sister?”

“I don’t have a sister,” Angel lied. “Why are you calling
me?”

“I can’t talk him into interviewing you.”

“Your brother?”

“My brother’s lawyer.”

“Lawyer?”

“There’s a contract. So you can’t sue.”

“Look,” Angel searched for words. “What’s your name?”

“Danny.”

“Look, Danny. This is too complicated for me. Lawyers and
contracts.”

“A hundred twenty thousand dollars, Aggie.”

It was a lot of money. Enough to move her out of New York.
Enough to buy her out of prostitution. Angel swallowed her protest.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “Look, who is your brother?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Would I recognize his name?”

“Probably not.”

“Is he in the mob or something? I don’t want anything…”

“No,” the young man interrupted. “He’s smart-rich, not
crooked-rich. Anyway, we’re Canadian.”

Maybe Canada wasn’t as mob-infested as the United States.
Still Angel couldn’t picture a rich legit guy putting an ad like that in the
paper. But then, would a legit woman answer it?

“Okay, Danny. I’ll answer the questionnaire.”

“It’s too late. The lawyer got angry and threw away your
letter.”

“Then how did you find me?”

“I remember things. Be in Vancouver on December 15
^th
.
That’s a Monday.”

“A Monday,” Angel repeated.

“I’ll send you a ticket. Take a cab from the airport to the
Vancouver Hotel. Check into the Queen Anne suite. I’ll leave a message at the
desk for you.”

“What are you going to do? Smuggle me in for an interview?”

“Probably,” the young man answered seriously. “I haven’t
worked it out yet.”

“What if you can’t get me in?”

“You’re still in Vancouver,” he offered. “It’s a pretty
city.”

“Send me the ticket for Saturday the thirteenth, then,”
Angel said, playing along. Nothing would come of it anyway. She doubted a
ticket would arrive. “May as well make a holiday of it.”

“Sure,” the young man agreed. “Bring the other one too.”

“What?” Angel asked as the phone clicked. She was only too
aware who the other one had to be, but how could Danny know?

And now all she had to do was go to Auburn for Thanksgiving,
make peace with her twin and persuade her to go to Vancouver for an impromptu
December vacation. Angel knew she could fool the john once she got into bed
with him. Sweet and innocent was one of her better gigs. But the lawyer? She
might need her sister for the interview.

Sure.

There weren’t two hopes in hell that the ticket would
arrive, that the interview was real, that some rich loony would give her the
money to quit turning tricks. But what the heck. She wasn’t working anyway and
like the man said, Vancouver was a pretty city.

Aggie arrived in Atlanta two hours ahead of her sister. She
went through the paperwork to pick up the rental car Angela had reserved. Then
she went to Waterston’s, her favorite airport bookstore, and bought a recent
paperback bestseller. She found an empty row near her sister’s arrival gate and
settled in to wait. Aggie hadn’t seen or heard from Angela in almost a year.
Anticipation and the CNN broadcast made it hard to concentrate on her book and
soon she tossed the machinations of the San Diego district attorney into her
bag.

Pacing the hallway beside the gate, Aggie chewed one
fingernail absently. She checked her watch and the arrivals board every few
minutes, certain that something would go wrong. Eventually the first passengers
began to trickle out the corridor from the plane. Aggie had a clear view over
the heads of most of the waiting greeters and she saw Angela as soon as she came
through the door. Every hair in place. Impeccably tailored suit. Aggie’s
shoulders sagged as she looked at her still perfect twin. Her sister’s head was
turned back in conversation with the proverbial tall, dark, handsome man. Trust
Angela to pick up the one good prospect on the plane.

“Bye, Angel.” The man handed her sister a carry-on bag. His
voice oozed seduction. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, then
watched longingly as she walked away.

“Angel?” Aggie asked as her sister approached.

“I go by that in New York,” Angel explained.

“Do you want me to call you Angel now?”

“No. Angela’s fine.” She opened her arms. “Inside I’m still
Boo.”

Aggie burst into tears and pulled her twin into a fierce
hug. Her first emotion spent, she raised her fist and pounded Angela’s
shoulder.

“You!” Aggie gulped. “Boo, you’re awful. You don’t call for
a year and then you walk off the plane with the most handsome man I’ve seen
since you left. Where do you find them?”

Angela laughed and Aggie tightened her grip. Her sister
squeezed back then put her hands on Aggie’s shoulders and held her away.

“Look at you, Boo,” she whispered. “Still the same Aggie.”

“We’re the Boo-Boo twins,” Aggie said, wiping her eyes.
“Let’s go. I filled out the papers for the car. We just need to give them your
driver’s license number and we can go. Do you have any more luggage?”

Angela shook her head and the two women started down the
long corridor toward the car rental booth. Angela linked her arm in Aggie’s and
seemed oblivious to the glances that Aggie felt boring into her skin.

“You need a haircut, Boo!”

Aggie reach up a hand and tousled her shag. “Do I?”

“Yes,” Angela insisted. “We’ll stop and get you done on the
way home to Dad’s.”

“Time to make over the ugly twin, Angela?” Aggie asked.

“No, silly. You’re gorgeous, of course. ’Cause if you
weren’t, how could I be?”

“I might have known.”

“Aggie, do you remember what we used to do, when we fooled
people about who was who?”

“Sure, back when we were ten or so.”

“Let’s do it again.” Angela’s voice sounded suspiciously
eager.

“Why?” Aggie asked bluntly.

Her sister shrugged. “Just for fun. My treat.”

“Boo,” Aggie blurted, “I don’t really want to look like
you.”

Angela stopped in the middle of the corridor and hurrying
passengers split around them like a wave. She dropped her bag and grabbed
Aggie’s shoulders with both hands.

“Aggie,” Angela shook her sister gently. “Maybe I want to
look like you this time.”

Aggie’s eyes teared. “Don’t, Angela. Don’t mess with my
head.”

Angela released Aggie and picked up her bag.

“I’m not messing with you,” she protested, her voice gruff.
“I want a new look, okay?”

When they got to the car, Angela insisted that Aggie drive.
She explained that she hadn’t been behind the wheel since she moved to New
York. Even the straight highway to Auburn made her nervous. As they headed out
of Atlanta, Angela made her sister stop at Old National Square Shopping Center.

“One hour,” she commanded. “Indulge me for one hour.”

“Okay,” Aggie agreed as she pulled into the parking lot
maze.

“Gayfer’s,” Angela directed, and Aggie pulled into a spot
near the upscale store. First stop was a hair salon next to the mall entrance
to the store.

“Get your hair however you like,” Angela offered.

“I intend to.” Aggie lifted an eyebrow and frowned. What was
wrong with her sister?

“I’m paying.” Angela added.

“Go right ahead.”

Once Aggie was seated in a salon chair and halfway to a
fresh cut, Angela dropped into the seat next to hers.

“Do my hair exactly the same,” she told her stylist.
“Exactly.”

The two stylists looked at each other and at the twins.

“You’re models, right?” the woman behind asked. “You’re in
Atlanta for a photo shoot or something.”

“No,” Aggie began.

“Yes,” Angela interrupted. “Watch for the ads in Vogue in
about five months.”

Aggie looked at her sister’s hand and sure enough her baby
finger was crooked up in a C, their childhood symbol of complicity. A sense
memory of Angela’s fun stole over her and she relaxed back into the seat with a
smile. Aggie watched as the stylist lopped off Angela’s careful curls. Her own
shag shortened to a pixie cut of chin length. She liked it better on Angela than
she did on herself, but looking at them both in the mirror she had to admit
that in reality they were identical.

If the young women had been glanced at before in the
airport, now the looks became stares. A little girl stopped in front of them
and cried, “Look, Mommy! Big twins!” Angela laughed and patted the child on the
head. Aggie turned her head and hurried past.

“I don’t like this attention,” she whispered fiercely to her
sister.

“We deserve it, Boo,” Angela lifted her chin. “Stand up
straight and smile.”

In the department store, two clerks rushed to help them when
they entered women’s clothing.

“Are you going to tell me to pick whatever I like?” Aggie
taunted.

“Maybe,” Angela laughed, seemingly immune to sarcasm. “Show
me what you would choose.”

“I don’t see why we need identical outfits.”

“For fun!” Angela explained. “I want to see if we can still
fool Dad.”

“You’re not planning to do something mean to Mary, are you?”

“No,” Angela insisted. “Just pick.”

They walked out of the store thirty minutes later with
armloads of bags. Two pairs of size eight dark gray wool pants, two long light
gray sweaters with knitted flowers across the shoulders and black pumps with a
compromise one and a half inch heel. Angela insisted on buying everything the
same, right down to the underwear, again a compromise, blacker and lacier than
Aggie’s initial choice.